


Kept

by NoemiTenshi



Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And Even Then They'll Make Mistakes, And Misogyny, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, Dubious Consent, Eventual Happy Ending, Explicit Sexual Content, Exploring Dark Themes, F/M, Misunderstanding the D/s dynamic, No Beta We Die Like Troy, No Clarks, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Slow Burn To A Healthier Relationship, That Means Racism, Things have to get worse before they can get better, Trauma (incorrect depiction of), We're A Long Way Off Though, unhealthy relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-28 09:34:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30137526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoemiTenshi/pseuds/NoemiTenshi
Summary: Troy meets an intriguing stranger at the depot and decides, on a whim, to keep her alive. This decision kickstarts a complicated and twisted relationship allowing him to act out his darker impulses without judgment or shame.Delighted he dives into these new experiences, not realizing that he'll lose himself if he isn't careful.
Relationships: Troy Otto/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 3





	1. Meet cute

Troy was intrigued. His men had sounded distressed when they’d called him. Almost – afraid? He’d never heard that tone from them – at least not in relation with something not to do with Troy himself. So he was very curious what they were about to show him.

“In here.” It was said lowly, as if to not disturb whatever creature waited behind that inconspicuous looking door. He opened it slowly, carefully, gun drawn and was surprised to encounter a young, plain-looking woman. South-American, by the looks of it. Shortly-chopped black hair, dark eyes and some faint freckles. No raspy breathing, no vacant stare, nothing to indicate she was anything else but human. Alive.

“So, are you the one to do it then? Kill me?” she asked.

Troy lowered his weapon slowly, his eyes never leaving her form.

“You don’t look like much,” he murmured, more to himself than her, “30ish? Mexican? Typical signs of undernourishment. Nothing out of the ordinary.” He was watching for her to give anything away while he was talking. She didn’t.

“Is this small talk thing mandatory before we get to the killing? Because I don’t need the foreplay – it’s, frankly, doing nothing for me. So let’s get to it already.”

“You’re awfully eager to die.”

“Wow, what extraordinary observation skills you have. Is that why they made you their leader? Or, no! Probably daddy had something to do with it, right? So. Typical.”

Troy didn’t answer her right away – too absorbed in trying to place her mannerism, her words. It was off, somehow. Like she was performing. Like she didn’t even mean the sarcasm.

“You’re quite a piece of work, aren’t you? Had my men all spooked.”

She actually groaned. “I was promised death. What has a girl to do around here to get you big. Bad. Soldiers. To follow through?”

“Who promised you?” Troy’s tone was level and calm, a stark contrast to her own.

“Huh? I don’t know. What does it matter?”

“It matters because I say so. Tell. Me.” Troy looked at her challengingly, refusing to back down, refusing to accept anything less than the truth. She stared right back at him, trying to unnerve him, maybe even intimidate him. He just quirked his eyebrows, amused. So, she tried a different approach.

“Shouldn’t _you_ be the one to fulfill _my_ last wish?” Troy allowed a small smirk.

“That’s funny. Now. Tell me what I want to know.” She understood that she wasn’t getting out of answering him, so she did.

“One of your guys. He didn’t give me his name.” Troy looked at her disapprovingly after it became clear she didn’t plan on saying more. So she sighed and continued.

“He was about this high. White. Had a beard. Wore the same thing you’re wearing…” She trailed off because Troy had started to walk away. So she hastened to add,

“It was the guy that captured me. He really didn’t give me his name. But I think I heard the others call him Ed. He wanted to scare me. Tried his damnedest to. He couldn’t stop pointing out the infected we were passing and telling me how I’ll soon be one of them. How my good looks will wither away sooner than I’d think. How they wouldn’t be of help to me, then. You know, I think he may be intimidated by women.” Her tone turned musing on the last sentence and Troy had the distinct impression that this was – for once – not for show. But she stopped that line of thought immediately and instead asked, “So, you gonna deliver on that promise now or what?”

“You genuinely want to die?”

“What gave it away? Oh, maybe it was my repeated begging? Does that make you feel all powerful? Oh, pretty please, big bad soldier guy, sir-”

“Troy Otto.” Troy didn’t know what exactly made him say that. Normally he didn’t introduce himself to his test subjects by name. On the other hand, this woman was so very different from his other test subjects. He had seen a lot of different reactions to being faced with death in the last few months. Since the beginning of the end. He’d seen pleading and cursing, bargaining and resignation, flirting, even sexual advances from both men and women. But never this. Never eagerness and exasperation. No one actually wanted to die, in his experience. Not the junkies, not the mortally wounded, not even the seemingly depressed. This woman, though… .

“Oh, pretty please, Commander Otto, sir,” she amended, eyes wide open, expression imploringly, earnest. As was her tone. Only her words were over the top, almost mocking.

“Why do you want to die?” he asked her because he did not doubt her intention, even with all the games she was playing. Or maybe because of the games? They were designed to make him angry, he recognized this intimately because he played those too. Angry enough to finally shoot her, he guessed. The woman groaned, frustrated.

“What is it with the _questions_?!”

Troy shrugged, a small, delighted smile playing on his lips.

“Only I can give you what you want. So the better question is: what is it with all that backtalk? Shouldn’t you do everything in your power to please me?”

She looked at him calculatingly but she didn’t say anything.

“So, tell me. Why do you want to die? Why, why end yourself?”

She scoffed.

“It’s not the end, is it? I’ll not be dead, not really. I’ll still be here-”

And Troy _move_ _d_. He hadn’t even decided on it, the movement exploded out of him and before he knew it he had the woman by the throat. His breathing was hard with suppressed anger and she was passive, slack in his grasp. For the first time since he had entered the room she actually acquiesced. She was watching him, patiently. Still no fear in her eyes. It was such an unexpected expression that Troy’s anger ebbed and he could think again.

“You won’t be,” Troy said lowly, “These things have nothing in common with whoever they were before. That person is gone. Dead.” The woman was pressing her lips together in thought.

“I won’t be asking again. Why do you want that so badly?” And the woman felt his fingers digging into her neck, his breath on her face, his eyes boring into hers, still with an undercurrent of rage in them. And she couldn’t do anything else but give him the truth.

“I want it so the outside will finally match the insides,” she rasped because it was difficult for her to talk. And finally Troy heard the all too familiar desperation in that statement he’d squeezed out of her. But where all others were desperate to live she was desperate to die.

And the anger swelled again, slower now than before, he could still think through it, was still in control – barely though and for a second he saw himself crushing her throat beneath his fingers. How. Dare. She. How dare she give up like this. Beg for it even? The anger was crashing over him now, drowning him because for one humiliating heartbeat he wasn't able to deny that the words echoed in his soul. Envy and shame were quick to follow. He bared his teeth in response and forced himself to stay in the moment, to concentrate on this woman in front of him. Poured all of these emotions into her.

“That wasn’t smart, now was it? Telling me your deepest desire. As you’ve said we’re the big bad soldiers. We don’t go around fulfilling little girls’ wishes. You won’t be turned. You won’t be killed. I’ll make sure of that.”

Her expression turned ugly now, full of fight and Troy couldn’t help but think that this was the first time she allowed him to see her true feelings reflected on her face.

“Oh yeah? How you gonna do that, soldier?” Troy squeezed her throat even harder in response and her self-satisfied smirk slipped, her eyes started to water.

“Your life is mine. It was mine from the moment my guys picked you up. Means, I fucking tell you not to end it, you won’t. It’s that easy.”

“Yes, sir,” she pressed out when Troy didn’t let up, even though he’d said his piece. He smiled at her menacingly and took his hands slowly and very deliberately from her throat. His finger imprints were streaked across her skin and she was gasping in air. But her eyes didn’t leave his face and she was looking expectantly at him.

“How may I be of service?” she asked and it sounded strangely rehearsed to Troy and he itched to find out more. But not now, because now she was still waiting for his answer. And he hadn’t thought that far – what he would do with her now, how his men would react, how his father would react. He needed to _stop_ that line of thought.

He could deal with his men. He’d find a way to deal with his father. She had offered her services so he would use them.

Show her his world. Show her the reality of the infected – and the living. How she now had what all the others craved. How _he_ had given that to her.


	2. His World Pt.1

“Listen up, everyone. This here is Ana. Ana’s gonna shadow me from now on. Take a good look so none of you shoot her by mistake.” Troy’s tone was light but not one of his men could mistake it for a joke. It was the same glib way he had informed them of the experiments.

“She’s gonna need a place to sleep – you take care of that, Sarah.” The woman in question nodded in understanding, though her expression was mostly confused. But she kept her questions to herself.

“She’s gonna get afforded the same amenities as all of you. You treat her as one of ours unless otherwise instructed.” Troy’s gaze darted quickly to Ana. He wasn’t sure what he had expected but she was patiently watching him. Then he swept his gaze over the disgruntled members of his militia. Oh, he knew that they wouldn’t like it. The question was if someone would openly defy him. So he waited. Saw several members exchange significant glances. One or two even opened their mouths. But no one said anything. He nodded in satisfaction.

“That is all, you can go now.” The militia members started shuffling away.

“ _Not_ you, Ed.”

So Ed stayed behind, alternating between throwing awkward and intimidating glances at Ana. But he didn’t dare to speak until all others had left. Then the words tumbled from his mouth.

“Listen, Troy, I…” The fact that Ed had started to explain, unbidden, was everything Troy needed to know.

“You’re off basement duty, Ed, until further notice.”

“What? No, you – what did the bitch tell you? It’s all lies, Troy, come on, you know–” Troy’s expression turned hard.

“This is not a _market_. You can’t barter for what role you want. I tell you you’re off basement duty, the only thing you say to that is ‘yes, Troy’.” Ed scowled and fixated his gaze on Ana. Ana, who only had eyes for Troy.

“Is this _boring_ you?” Troy asked softly and it immediately snapped Ed out of it.

“No!” Troy raised his eyebrows at the single-word answer, clearly expecting more.

“I was out of line. You say ‘off basement duty’, so I’m off basement duty.”

“See that it doesn’t happen again or you’ll not leave the ranch anytime soon.” Ed just nodded grudgingly and shuffled from one leg to the other. He still had the urge to discuss the situation with Troy, find out what that woman had told him. Explain. Troy was having none of it.

“Off you go, then,” he said and Ed hastened to comply.

*

Troy showed Ana the basement. The holding area, she’d already seen, but not the room where the experiments were taking place. Troy strolled in, feeling giddy for reasons he didn’t really understand himself.

The room reeked of old blood and waste. Two soldiers, no, not soldiers, militia members, Troy had explained, were standing there, laughing among themselves. They had an ease about them that starkly contrasted with the rest of the room.

They stood a bit straighter when they saw Troy but the air of camaraderie did not change. Before they could give a status report, Troy said, “Could you give us the room?” But it wasn’t a question, not really. They exchanged unsure glances.

“Uh, you sure, boss?” One of them asked.

“Wait outside, go on.” Troy dismissed them and their concerns in an easy enough tone.

“Yeah Troy, aren’t you afraid of what I could do to you?” Ana asked – thankfully once the door had closed behind the two men. Troy looked at her in benevolence and bit his lower lip almost teasingly. Then he smirked, all challenge, and very deliberately broke their eye-contact.

“This is where it happens,” he said while opening his arms wide.

“Where you turn people?” Ana guessed.

“Nononono. No. We don’t turn people. We put them out of their misery. And then. And then we observe what happens next.”

“Which is – that they turn,” Ana said in a superior tone. Troy didn’t let it bait him.

“So far,” he conceded, “Without fail, so far, everybody has turned sooner or later. It seems to depend on a lot of different variables. Age, height, weight, health. The guys have a betting pool. And if they would actually pay attention they wouldn’t keep losing...”

While he talked Ana was slowly moving through the room, curiously taking everything in. Troy saw the exact moment she noticed the corpse chained to the pipes because there was a slight hesitation in her movements. Then she went straight to it, crouched down and took in the time stamp written in sharpie on the forehead, the slack features, the closed-taped mouth.

“How long until she turns?” she asked and her hand reached out, involuntarily, and softly traced the unmoving face. “I mean, _assuming_ she turns.”

“Oh, we’re not even halfway there.”

“How long would it take me?” There was a surprised intake of breath. And then Troy answered, “Less then an hour, maybe 50 minutes. I’d need more information if you want a better estimate.” _50 minutes._ Ana sighed and stood up.

Troy was suddenly besides her.

“Are you jealous of her?” he asked and there was something dangerous in his tone. It made Ana want to provoke and appease him at the same time. So she settled for a tentative shrug.

The next thing she knew her back was pressed against the cold tiles, her left wrist was clasped in a handcuff and Troy was attaching the other cuff on one of the pipes. Her heart-rate accelerated and she wasn’t sure if it was from fear or anticipation. Probably both.

“Normally I don’t let myself get chained up at the first date,” she said and it came out more breathless than she intended. Troy did his little smirk again.

“It’s cute you think you have any say in that matter,” he murmured. Then he stepped back and looked at her from different angles, by turning his head this way and that, apparently searching for something in her expression, her reaction. She didn’t know what it was and whether he found it because her mind was now fully concentrated on him, on whatever he’d do next.

His hand reached for his gun, his eyes never leaving hers. But the movement wasn’t threatening in as so much as it was lazy. Then he raised the gun to his eye level and his gaze slid from hers to the gun, turning thoughtful. He sat the barrel against her forehead slowly, almost gently.

“Is that what you want?” he asked her. She didn’t dare speak for fear he would stop. But her eyes did roll upwards to focus on the gun and her mouth opened slightly to draw more air in. Troy let the gun slowly trail to her temple and applied pressure. She gasped in response, her eyes still trying to keep the gun in focus.

“That’s how we normally do it,” Troy said, “We chain up the test subjects and shoot them point blank. Though I probably didn’t need to chain you up, did I?” She had to tear her eyes away from the gun that was slowly trailing down the outline of her face and focused on Troy’s intense expression.

“No, sir,” she said once her brain did her the courtesy on focusing on what he had said.

“No, didn’t think so,” he said slowly and if Ana hadn’t been distracted by the gun pressed against the side of her throat, her throat that was still sore from before, she’d have noticed how it was difficult for him to think now, too. But her eyes and her mind were firmly back on the gun that she could feel with every swallow. The gun slipping over her collarbone and settling on her chest, over her heart. Her eyes went to his face again – to gauge his reaction? To plead and beg? She didn’t know.

In an abrupt movement he stepped back and took the gun away.

“Ah, no,” he said and there was a smile in his tone, “Told you, I don’t fulfill little girls' wishes.” Ana released a breath forcefully, a sigh of disappointment, while Troy was opening her handcuffs.

“Come, I’ll show you the rest,” he said and there was a definitive bounce in his step while he led the way.

*

“So what, you’re running this operation to gain insight into the how and why of the infected?” Ana asked once she recovered from the game Troy had played.

“Yes. Well and people want fuel so we have to protect what’s ours – What?” Troy asked after taking in Ana’s surprised look.

“Oh, it just seems unreal to me, is all. Because this definitely _wasn’t_ the first thing I thought when your guys captured me, you know?”

“What was the first thing you thought, then?”

“Forced prostitution,” she said matter-of-factly, “Until – Ed? Started in on taunting me. After that I _really_ wasn’t sure what I was getting into.”

“Yeah, some of the guys are – overeager. They don’t get what this is really about. Which: not a problem as long as they are not endangering the operation.”

“So Ed was endangering it?” Troy took a moment to look at Ana. There was something in her tone, something more than mere curiosity.

“What – you think I pulled him off duty for you?” Troy guessed and his tone hitched disbelievingly. Instead of getting defensive as Troy expected her to, Ana’s expression relaxed – was that a smile? – and she just shrugged noncommittal. Troy got the strange feeling of just having passed some sort of test.

“So, what kind of information would you need to calculate my exact time of turning?” Ana asked while Troy was trying to work out what had just happened.

“Ah, well, I already told you. Age, weight, height, any type of medical condition you have, anything to do with your overall health, really.”

“And then you have a formula? Can I see?” Troy wasn’t used to people being genuinely interested in his findings and he didn’t doubt for a second that her interest _was_ genuine, even though he was doubtful of her motivation for it and so he needed a moment to consider her request, while his hand was already subconsciously reaching for his notebook.

“Hmm, nah, I don’t think so,” he finally said and watched her face fall, “But yes, there is a formula.”

Next thing he knew she’d rattled off the needed information and looked at him expectantly. He nodded along and was silent for a long while after, only pointing out the dining area and the sleeping area as they passed.

“47 minutes,” he proclaimed right as they left the building, “From what you told me it should be 47 minutes.”

“ _If_ I turn,” she found the need to add.

“Well, yeah,” he said. This time there was no mistaking her expression for anything else but a smile. The smile didn’t leave her face until they reached the pit.

“What’s that for?” she asked, curious, “Looks like a fighting arena.”

“Probably because that’s what it is,” Troy said lowly.

“So, how does this help you gain insight?” Troy tilted his head, not sure he liked her tone.

“Every little observation helps. You never know what actually turns out to be significant, what that little piece of information might be that could make the difference between life and death. And there are several things to be observed here. Whether the infected are aware of one another, whether they are capable of working together, whether they understand danger…”

“Yes, no and no,” Ana said and raised her eyebrows, “Correct? And I didn’t even need a pit for that.” Troy conceded that point with an inclined head.

“Do you also know how much of a human they can digest so its corpse doesn’t turn? How fresh their food has to be so they actually still consider it food? How the adrenaline of being in a life or death situation impacts the turning time?” Ana shook her head. Troy smirked, satisfied.

“Oh, and also this is a good way to give those overeager guys an outlet, you know?”

“Ah, yes,” Ana said and there was something more in her tone that Troy couldn’t grasp. It made him want to crack her skull open and dissect her brain.

“So are you normally there when those gladiator fights take place?” Again, Troy couldn’t exactly place her tone.

“Not always,” he said and watched her closely. There was a slight twitching movement in her shoulders. She gave nothing else away. Troy was at the same time disappointed and impressed at her lack of response.

“If we go now, we can watch her turn. That corpse you are so jealous of.” Ana didn’t know exactly if she wanted to. On the one hand this would show her even more starkly what she would not get anytime soon, what Troy had promised her he would not let her have. It would hurt, to get to watch this. On the other hand she’d never watched a turning up close. And the way Troy looked at her expectantly she got the feeling that he wanted her to say yes. In the end, her own wants didn’t matter, did they? Her life was Troy’s now and if he wanted her to see, he’d make her see.

“Yes, please,” she said therefore.

*

That’s how Ana found herself crouched before the corpse once more.

“Look into her eyes,” Troy instructed. Ana did. They were a glassy brown, unmoving, reminding her of her old doll’s eyes. They didn’t stay like this long.

The sudden clouding of the eyes, the almost involuntary, spasmic movements, the low snarling, all of that made the corpse look much less human than it did while it was unmoving. Want and need were collapsing into one thing for the infected: food, probably never to be satisfied, no matter how much it would digest. A cursed existence.

And Ana felt a deep sadness envelope her and she wasn’t sure whether it came from yearning to take the corpses place or if it came from some other, darker place she did not care to even think about.

“Right on time!” Troy’s proud exclamation almost didn’t reach her, the words didn’t make sense to her. They were followed by a loud bang she couldn’t place at first. But the corpse stopped moving and she understood. Troy shot it.

“And that’s what happens to most infected here,” Troy said and there was a challenge in his tone, “You still want me to turn you?” That question sparked an avalanche of unwelcome thoughts and she bit the insides of her cheeks to stop it. It wasn’t enough so she said with conviction, trying to disappear into the words,

“Does it matter – what I want?”

Troy laughed.


End file.
